Category: Carlos A. Angeles

I bought this today from the university press. I know I was supposed to be in class, I’m supposed to be doing homework or some other school-uppity stuff. But this is important. The world could wait.

Landscape IICarlos A. Angeles

Sun in the knifed horizon bleeds the sky
Spilling a peacock stain upon the sands,
Across some murdered rocks refused to die.
It is your absence touches my sad hands
Blinded like flags in the wreck of air.

And catacombs of cloud enshroud the cool
And calm involvement of the darkened plains,
The stunted mourners here: and here, a full
And universal tenderness which drains
The sucked and golden breath of sky comes bare.